


The Road to Happiness is Paved in Sadness

by EmPoweredBeing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmPoweredBeing/pseuds/EmPoweredBeing
Summary: Poppy Pomfrey recounts a tale to her brand new grandson. About how their family came to be, the adversity that they faced. But more importantly; how he got his name. This is an accompanying story to Ch48 & 53 of The Conegal Priestess but can also be stand-alone.
Relationships: Poppy Pomfrey/William McGonagall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	The Road to Happiness is Paved in Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: This is the accompanying story to Chapter 48 and 53 of The Conegal Priestess. It can absolutely be read on it lonesome if you so wish, but it does make a touch more sense if you read that as well. Love to you all. Especially Spin, my extraordinary beta and Mellie, for whom this whole thing is written for ;)**
> 
> _Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended_
> 
> -0-

The first time I met him, he was a sobbing little thing, tucked into his sister's arms in the dark of the night. His sister, my best friend, had soothed him gently and she'd smiled as he fell asleep against her. Not for the first time in my life did I wish I wasn’t an only child.

The second time that I met him, properly this time, was during his Second Year. He'd got in trouble for something or other and Minerva, though she had got into just as much trouble in our previous years, had told him off. He'd dropped his head and kicked the ground like a toddler, but still, he'd been courteous and agreeable. Min had pulled him into her arms after she'd told him off and I knew there was something there that didn't make sense. Minerva, barely out of childhood herself, had such parental hold over this boy. But, in true form, I didn't ask and Minerva didn't tell.

It was in our Fourth Year that I got a sense of what was going on. Robert - Rab - their youngest brother, had arrived at Hogwarts. Having been friends with Minerva for three years, and to a lesser extent, friends with William for two, I saw how Rab was different. He was, and I struggled with this knowing his siblings as I did, snooty. He had an air about him that the others did not and there was a mutual resentment there that none of them ever drew attention to but that was palpable whenever they were in the same room. It festered under everything and came to a head when Rab had been caught bullying a similar-aged girl from Hufflepuff. Minerva had yelled and screamed and told him how disgusting his behaviour was and he had sneered at her and told her that they might only be half-blood, but of _course,_ they were better than a Mudblood. 

Minerva had slapped him across the face and despite it being a shock to all of us, something had happened inside Minerva that seemed to kill a part of her. She didn't smile anymore. And William. Poor William had shied away from her whenever she was close. I watched a family fracture that day.

They simply existed, after that; the McGonagall children. William found solace in books and Minerva had thrown herself into Quidditch. Rab only existed outside their bubble and whenever his name came up, Minerva insisted that it was nothing to do with her. Rab was a Ravenclaw, after all, and she held no sway over them. Whomever the complainant was should tell a teacher, or if it _was_ a teacher, they should Owl her parents.

As time wore on, things softened imperceptibly. William stopped flinching and Minerva uncovered the mirror beside our beds that she had thrown a blanket over not long after the falling out. Eventually, as we all moved up a year, Minerva and Will hugged more and she looked after him as she had probably always done. What Minerva didn't know was that someone had started writing anonymous letters to me. When she found one in my dresser she stared at the envelope for a long time, looking me in the eye and asked me why Will was writing to me. My breath caught as I realised she was right, but I managed to pass it off as someone with similar writing. We didn't mention it again and honestly, I thought she had forgotten. The letters kept coming though and I smiled every time I found one, tucked in a book or in my cloak or, I had laughed, once in my hat. Minerva pulled away, even though we had been best friends for years. I wasn't sure if she had worked out what was going on and disapproved or if she just didn't know what to make of it. I didn't really think about it then. 

That came later. When things became more tangible. When lives were threatened.

The letters stopped for a few months and while I was confused and truthfully, a little hurt, I didn't question it. Nor did I mention it to Minerva. That was a part of our lives that we did not discuss. Just like we did not discuss Rab, nor her mother, and never her father. By that time, I had worked some of it out. I was not stupid and she was not oblivious to my knowledge. We just did not speak of it. 

And then. 

And then we had turned round that corner, after spending an afternoon holed up inside the library laughing quietly over Professor Binns’ monotonous drivel. _That_ corner. Even now, some fifty-odd years later, we both still struggle to walk around _that_ corner. The image of those five Slytherins, as old as they were, putting their boots on something we couldn't quite make out in the centre of their crowd plagues us both, I know.

Minerva had shouted and they all stepped back, but my throat caught and I felt the air around Minerva crackle. Nobody was under the impression that Minerva McGonagall was just another girl in our year anymore, and even the cowards before us went a little pale. Her wand was pointed at their ringleader - a slimy boy called Carrow that had a habit of hurting people who had parentage that differed from his own. He snarled something out, a suggestion or an accusation, I couldn't hear. My hearing had been muted somehow as my eyes remained on the pathetic body lying in the middle of the corridor. 

Minerva had asked me to go to him, but the prospect was more terrifying than I'd ever comprehended. They had done that to another person. They had done that to another child. It was as if the war was suddenly right before me. We'd pretended for such a long time that it was nothing. Like my parents weren't both looking older every time I saw them after a year of trying to put back together broken bodies or fix broken minds. 

Minerva asked me again, insisting that I, as the one with medical knowledge, go to him. Books were only so useful, I then realised, in helping a person. Live patients were something else entirely.

I blinked as Minerva stunned every person but us in that corridor and I stared at her like I'd never seen her before. She was talking to me but I couldn't hear what she was saying. Wouldn't hear it, I suppose. 

Despite the body lying in the middle of the now prone Slytherins.

A movement.

A twitch and I looked up as that same slimy, dour boy pushed off his friend he used as a shield and raced towards that figure. 

And slammed both feet, and all his weight, down on his arm.

The corresponding snap and the scream that went up was enough to make me vomit, but it was what happened afterwards that almost destroyed everything. We saw who it was, in the middle of those bodies and Minerva, hair wild and eyes flashing had screamed out a curse so terrible that it had taken me a while to truly comprehend it. We watched in horror as this disgusting boy's chest had burst forth, the blood spurting up the walls. I'd heard tell of curses like that, but had obviously never seen one. 

The screams were too much and glancing only barely at Minerva, I ran to Will’s side and cradled his head, tears pouring down my face as I did my best _not_ to watch what was going on further down the corridor.

"Miss Pomfrey?" 

I blinked up at our Head of House who looked as solemn as I’d ever seen him, though his tone was quite gentle. He spoke as if we were merely congregating in the corridors on a sunny day.

"Please take Mr McGonagall to the Hospital Wing. Tell Healer Strout that he has broken his arm quite by accident and he will need to get it fixed. Can you do that for me?"

I couldn't look at Minerva, but I felt the terrible pain Will was in beneath my hands and I nodded. 

"Good, do so now. Mention nothing of what you have seen here, do you understand?"

I didn't know what Minerva had done, nor really wanted to consider it at all at that moment, but she was my best friend and I loved her.

Will's arm was easy to fix and after some chocolate for the both of us, Healer Strout let us return to our Common Room. I'd cried, hard, and Will had put his arms around me and held me for what felt like hours. It could have been days for all I knew but he held me tight, with the maturity of one twice his age, until we fell asleep on the sofa together.

The fall out from that moment had been felt for months. Minerva had been sullen and withdrawn for many weeks and she'd pulled away whenever I was around. And so I'd stayed with William. Who talked me gently through the nightmares I had. Of leaving him there, without protection. Of being too scared to move. Our friendship had deepened while Minerva's had broken.

To that end, when he kissed me, so very chastely in the dark corner of the Common Room before bed one night, we decided without even talking about it, that we wouldn't tell Minerva. Instead, we stole brief moments to share hugs and kisses and gentle caresses whenever possible. I wrote him letters, as he did and we developed a system where we could send them to each other without arousing suspicion. Especially after Minerva had seemed to come back into her own, one cold morning out in the grounds. She'd suddenly hugged me again, just like the old days as if nothing had happened. Things seemed to return to normal after that. They carried on as before and Minerva was even made Head Girl. I could understand that, what with everything else she did for the school, but there was one wobbly moment at the beginning of our Seventh Year when Professor Dumbledore had congratulated her. Minerva had opened her mouth to say something, but he'd just squeezed her hand gently and winked, before leaving us to our duties; Minerva as Head Girl and me as Healer Strout's apprentice. A year ahead of time.

I didn’t really have the time to write to Will as often as I’d have liked. We'd both agreed to not write over the holidays, as Owls to his home caused more tension than was necessary and he didn't have one anyway. I could feel the excitement building as we finally managed to find a few moments to meet and he cornered me near the Astronomy Tower. He pulled me into a dark alcove and pressed me against the wall. Oh, that first kiss after so long was enough to make me lose my mind. His hands were under my robes before I realised what was really happening and we stepped back rather quickly, giggling at the insanity of it all. 

We were slightly less reserved after that. We knew there was a finite amount of time before I had to leave. He would be staying for another year, and it wasn't until the night before my graduation that I realised what we were really doing.

"Wait for me?" he'd asked me.

I stared at the ring in his hand. It wasn't an expensive one. It wasn't shiny, or anything of that nature. It was perfect. Plain silver, with a square-cut emerald in the middle that matched his eyes. I'd beamed at him, knowing what this must have cost him and knowing what I did about his family. I'd given him everything that night and I had been so very happy to do so. He was the man I would marry, in time. It didn't matter that we had been carrying on behind his sister's back. It didn't matter that his brother, no less of a brat than he had been but still headstrong and with a brashness that none of them liked, was the favourite child at home. It didn't matter that I'd seen the scar on Will's back where something had cut him deeper than any healing cream could fix without leaving a mark. I loved this boy. And the man he was becoming was my future. I’d known it the moment I’d dropped to his side, knowing immediately that his arm was broken by the awkward angle it had sat.

So I gave him my all that night. My promise and my love forever. 

We kept it quiet until he'd graduated. I'd arrived at the familiar school gates with Minerva, nodding cordially to their mother, who I'd always endured despite her slightly sour disposition. Their father was not in attendance but I didn't ask. It was better simply not to, I'd found. 

I'd cheered louder than anyone else when his name had been called but even then we did not falter. Not in front of his mother. It was too much and he'd understood when I’d whispered it in his ear not five weeks prior when I’d met him in Hogsmeade.

No. It had taken something much darker for our secret to be revealed. The disappearance of their brother. The brother who the two had never really liked and never taken the time for. But whom they loved as deeply as they loved each other. 

When Min had found out, she'd arrived on Will’s doorstep at exactly the wrong moment, just when I had sat down to have breakfast with him. She’d gaped at us no doubt noticing me wearing Will's shirt from the night before, then the rings on our fingers and I blushed under her gaze.

There was a silence that none of us could figure out how to break. She had stared at us, her forehead wrinkling under the strain of the secret that had been inadvertently revealed. 

And then she had left.

I looked at him for a long time before he got up and wrapped me in his arms, but it was then that she came back and told us what the matter was. Their brother. Their baby brother was gone.

Will didn't let me go and Minerva's eyes held mine as he clung to me. I was the brave one this time, and I offered her my hand. After all, she was my best friend in the whole world. And I held them both while they cried.

Rab was seventeen years and twenty-six days old when he died. Angered by both Minerva's prowess with her Auror apprenticeship and Will’s new job at St. Mungo’s, he had not been used to the attention being turned away from him, and he had done as some of the Slytherins had and escaped Hogwarts just after Christmas. Not that he was on Grindelwald’s side like them, no Rab was - ironically enough - opposing him, fighting _for_ the Muggles. He'd signed up to fight and like the desperate times that it had called for, they pointed him at the enemy and hoped for the best.

And he had died, barely days after arriving on the shores of the continent. 

The gossip was the worst. Once people found out that a McGonagall had died, the rumours were, at times, even more awful than the idea that their baby brother wasn’t coming back. Minerva was inconsolable as news came to her of the perpetrator. A boy from our own Hogwarts year group whom we all knew, and one of the known enemy: Antonin Dolohov. He had been amongst the boys who had hurt Will and though I had tried not to hate him, I couldn’t help myself. I hated him so deeply that I sneered any time someone brought up his name. 

In truth, I had expected it to be Carrow. I had thought that he had murdered young Rab, in retaliation for Minerva’s spell but he had already died fighting, apparently. Taken out in a lonely part of the battle by a figure with no name, leaving behind a young family of his own at home.

-0-

"So you see," Poppy smiled, curling her finger along that downy cheek. "While Rab was not our friend, by any means, your Uncle was a brave soul and we loved him. Not that he knew, or understood." She rocked her new grandson slowly. "But we loved him all the same, because he was our brother. And I am glad that you carry his name, little man. And that we can love you as we should have loved him."

She felt two strong arms surround them both and she sighed, leaning back against her husband's chest.

"Okay?" he muttered, his lips on her skin.

"I was just telling him the story of his Uncle. And how proud I am that he bears his name."

"We McGonagalls don't deserve you, Poppy Pomfrey."

"Well," she smiled, turning and resting her forehead against his, with baby Robbie between them. "I love you all, just the same."


End file.
